Life Skills for Superstars
by ladyjanegray2106
Summary: repost from 2008  Falling in love is easy. Making a life together harder, especially with Dr. D loose and out for revenge.


**Life Skills for SuperStars**

By Lady Jane Gray

_May: how it ended_

It was Shego's idea: take off early, spend some Friday time together. Of course Shego chose the day, and time, and place. Of course Kim went along.

Kim got to the brewpub first; the room half glass-wall and patio, half again a deeper dark that a good pub offers, and complete with fireplace. She picked a padded chair, near the fire, facing the street. As she looked at the fire, she began a slow slouch-down, began to relax.

She'd been in Vancouver a month, hadn't time to think, reflect, relax. Now, away from the lab, apart from Shego, she created a mini Kim-space: a month of images, feelings, memories. Deplaning from Paris, she'd picked out Shego, face like a kid on Christmas, not believing that new bike really was hers. Then their second night, when she snuck into Shego's bed. Four months away, and just touching her again was like coming home. What Shego'd said about the mountains: they'd touched foundations, depth. She wanted for it to be more, but Shego still wanted to go slow. If it were possible to go any slower; it wasn't like anyone was getting pregnant.

So she waited for Shego, who was right after all: this was a good idea. The whole month of immigration, fights for lab space, university politics, equipment, students and postdocs and all of it was superficial, though where the meaning was, she didn't know.

Just out of her vision, a flash of red. Kim turned: on the street, Shego, in jeans and a red silk blouse. Abstract mix of textures, colors: rough, soft; black red tan. Then Shego walking across the room, tight high-waist jeans, blouse buttoned low and bright jewelry in the cleavage. Nothing girlie about her walk; she had one serious power walk. She'd seen Shego wear casual, formal; business and exercise, but she'd never seen her wear sexy.

Kim knew Shego was sexy, but for her it was all in a gentle touch, maybe a smile, her voice. Sexy wasn't looks or clothes, lingerie or posing, but: here it was, Shego just strolling in and taking the attention of the whole bar. Wow.

"Hey, Possible: pay attention: your date's here."

Kim stood, made a show of looking around and "Where?" got Shego to look, then snuck in under her defenses, grabbed and kissed her. Whispered,

"You. Red. Rawrr."

"Kim, didn't you see the 'No Cruisin' sign?"

"You're the one illegal, in that outfit. C'mon, sit down and order; I'm hungry."

"What you up for?"

"Menu – trust."

"Gotcha." Shego, who was good at that kind of thing, commanded the attention of the waiter, ordered. "Yippie IPA for my girlfriend, hefeweizen for me; basket of chips." Slunked down in her chair.

"Long day?"

"Ma ma hu hu, like Mr. Huang tells me."

"Still no emerald?"

It was true. Shego wore the makings of a pretty classy rainbow necklace: two-carat ruby, citrine as pure and yellow as ever she'd seen. Emerald was next, and, no emeralds.

"No. And I wanted something special: long, long board meeting. I got it through, Kim. You're now an officer of the company."

So now Shego was her boss. "Thanks. I mean, really thanks. Can I kiss you?" As the waiter had just come up to serve their beer, the only reply she got was "Nice to see a woman who appreciates her pint, but I think you better save it for your girlfriend."

"Good move, there, Possible." Shego took a deep drink; closed her eyes to relax. Her own feelings all squashed down into a private place, Kim asked 'When do I start?"

"Sigh. You really want business? It'll be so nice to get in a good run with you tomorrow." Another long pause. "OK, I'm back. I'm hoping, over your summer break, you can start subbing in as Second? Best guess Maggie's gonna deliver in July, and I was thinking you could take over while she's on leave. By the way, that's the good news."

Kim made a show of trying her IPA. Head like sea foam, color deep amber like … amber. She didn't know how amber should taste, but this wasn't it. More like grapefruity. That was the thing with beer: never could live up to its face promise.

"So, Kim: now the bad news. You're in because of Drakken."

"Wha? I'm missing . . . I know you got evil billionaires on the board, but."

"They aren't particularly evil, Kim." Shego said gently. "Just wealthy beyond any human need. Kim, are you paying attention? Good. Drakken got access to money. Somehow; even Wade can't trace it. Now he's got lawyers, and he's split his case from Muttweiller's. What's that say to you?"

"He set Bonnie up to take the fall?"

"Du'h, yeah! Tried that with me too. But – follow the money, Kim."

Always being tested. "If Wade can't see it, the transfers aren't electronic. So it's dark money. Hand carried stuff."

"And?" Shego leaned forward. Impatient. High school all over again.

"Uh, terrorist. 9/11 kind of stuff. Whoo, boy."

"So, I need you in Austin for his trial next week. Can you make it?"

"Sure. Move my lab meeting: yeah. Sure."

"Great; welcome to Securite Global. Whew." Shego sat back, looked at her; examined her. "Leave it to me to ruin our big date. How's that beer?"

"Sorry. Guess the Drakken set me off; I didn't even taste it."

"Something wrong, Kim? You seem out of it. Preoccupied."

So it'd taken Shego what? Five minutes? to see through her? "I found a place today."

"What kind of place? Labspace?"

This was not gonna go down well. "Condo near UBC. I'd like if you could see."

"Why do you need a condo? We got a home already."

"You're the one who said real estate was a good investment."

"Dammit, Kim, I meant for renting to tourists or something."

"Shego, we talked about this last December. You'd help me find a place."

"That was before. Come on; we lived together a month. I thought you . . . I thought this was . . . we were together."

"It's not about us, I just want my own place. You know." Kim shrugged awkwardly. "Space?"

Stuff stopped for a moment, all kinds of feelings piling up, on, against, each other. Shego gulped down most of her pint, tried again.

"I don't understand. Can you help me understand?"

She'd expected to get yelled at; this was more irritating. Shego wanted to understand and Kim just knew, she wouldn't. "I just need space, Shego. I don't know how to say why."

"Space. We live together a month. You walk in, I fall for you and you just walk right out? That's space, huh? Nice."

Shego was close on shouting: pushed her chair back, walked over to stare into the fire. She'd left scorch marks on the table. It'd been a long. Very long while, since Kim had seen that.

Kim rose, followed her to the fireplace, but all it got her was a look, a shake of the head, and Shego walking out.

The waiter stood by her, watched Shego leave. "That is a world class butt. You don't know what you're losing, there, Romeo. Here's the check."

What did Shego have that she didn't? Whatever, she'd been outclassed, again.

She didn't feel like going home; anyway Shego was probably meditating or doing martial arts, or balancing her chi. So she walked the opposite way from home, Seawall along False Creek: half leftover industrial port, half multi-billion redevelopment with high-rise condos. A lot of Vancouver she didn't know, but what she did know had a certain green tint to it. That was it: her mind was undergoing a kind of inter-dimensional meltdown, with Shego's version becoming the official version. It coulda been one of Drakken's insane molecular destabilizers, almost. She walked with the fading daylight, peering into random condos. Moms home from work; kids doing homework in the kitchen or maybe just coloring. It'd been a long time since she'd seen family.

She took her own time, walked down Davie, the gay area, where Shego never took her. Expecting wildly illicit things and finding it was like anywhere else: mom and pop sushi places, an organic veggie market (bunches of baby bell peppers: red yellow orange). She counted five, six small bakeries, coffee places. People getting off buses, from work or light shopping. The only gay she saw was a bookstore, advertising a reading and book signing: Nicola Griffith, author of 'Ammonite', 'The Blue Place', 'Slow River.' It'd do.

Inside, a small crowd that didn't feel like her crowd; she checked out the other side of the shop. What? a row of gay greeting cards? On the counter, little rainbow-colored lapel pins; picking through, she found a rainbow maple leaf. Then . . . it was like high school, when a bunch of girls started on the pill, told everyone they were on the pill. They mostly didn't have boyfriends and weren't even dating: it was like a ritual, do this and you'd be all grown up. She put the pin back.

An older woman stood next to her: salt & pepper hair cut short, starched white shirt and a vest, the kind of woman who gave meaning to the term 'dyke'. "Hey! Aren't you that girl in the paper? Sue? You got that paper?"

Sue, who was working counter, brought over the latest National Informer. Headline 'Who's Who Playing for the Other Side' (see page two), and, right there, a picture of her: close-dancing with Shego, captioned 'Teen hero hits the girl bars.'

Kim confided in the older woman: "Four years the tabloids leave me alone. I go to one lousy girl-dance, and wow, I'm news."

The woman smiled, one of those 'I been through it all' smiles. "Look on the bright side, kid: that gal of yours is a cutie. And ya don't have to worry how to come out to yer parents."

Some conspiracy of injustice: now she was like internationally gay, and she hadn't even done it yet. And no lapel pin was going to make Shego be her lover. Time to leave: she was searching in the wrong place.

Davie led to Denman, then past Bannana Leaf. Sharing a glass of Nk'Mip,then their first kiss. She felt so naïve, she'd called it 'inkymeep': how she supposed to know it was First Nations? But that was the thing, again: Shego was the native and was always that one step ahead of her. She used to think having an older sister would be fun, and maybe it would, but having an older girlfriend was getting to her.

Another fifteen minutes, she was back at Shego's place, One Harbour Green. The red marble, sandblasted green glass had won some kind of design award. Sleek, modern, urban, and as not-Kim as it came. Her own Paris look was all surface; deep down, she'd always be a midwest girl with kids playing in a yard, dads grilling burgers on a patio. Urban Sleek wasn't her, and she didn't forsee any easy journey from a five-million dollar condo to any suburban back yard.

Kim took the private elevator to the penthouse, passed security. Shego was meditating. She tip-toed to her own room, tried to relax.

She checked on Shego at midnight, three and five. This was serious; one thing she knew was that keeping a lotus that long demanded intense physical and mental strength.

When she woke, Shego was sitting on the edge of her bed. Daylight: coffee, croissant on the nightstand. While she sipped, Shego looked closely at her; of the two, Shego seemed the better rested.

"Kim, I've been thinking. This isn't what I'm looking for. I'm not experimenting, or trying to find myself."

"What are you telling me? I'm not old enough for you? I'm too naïve?"

Shego stood. "Why don't you go ahead, get your place. Figure out what you want. You know where to find me."

"Shego, I want to talk."

"We will. But now hurts." Shego hesitated, maybe waiting. "I have to be out of town a few days; I'd appreciate it if you weren't here when I got back."

She thought she'd do the trial incognito; a burkha or chadour would work, but probably wouldn't get her past courthouse security. Change hair style, maybe a cut. Intense, then too she'd want to talk it over and no-one was there. Settled for a Texan hat, jeans and boots. Big belt buckle: as long as SG was paying, she ought to have some fun. Felt like she should be chewing a piece of straw, though.

She'd been to any number of Drakken trials (Shego too; wished she could forget) but this was different. He walked into the courtroom dressed in a suit a banker might envy: say, CEO Bank of America. Drakken's hair, normally wild, unruly, was unnaturally conservative. Legal teams included stylists; who knew. She got caught out, about two minutes after Drakken's team entered: one of his lawyers, scanning the courtroom, spotted her in the middle-back row. A tall, lean blonde young woman in heavy silk, gray pants suit and jacket just buttoned at the waist, stumbled an inelegant path towards her. "Doctor Possible." Offered her hand; Kim didn't feel any need to stand. "My name's Tashi. Sorry we didn't meet under better circumstances. You know you're just wasting your time here? Could you be persuaded to join me for a drink tonight?"

Saved by the judge, and the trial moved along surprisingly quickly. The trespassing charge was simply dismissed, prosecution stipulating that it was all a case of internet fraud. Kidnapping, or, as she learned, Aggravated Kidnapping, covered under Section A20.04 of the Penal Code, was therefore reduced to simple kidnapping, a felony of the third degree. This time prosecution made an almost good case that an individual had been kidnapped. Mixed feelings: Kim didn't want Shego's name dragged through this; on the other hand, it could bring in Drakken's past criminal record.

But his lawyers were way ahead, introducing a string of witnesses demonstrating that Drakken was connected with The Trails Institute for Mental Fortitude as a figurehead and spiritual leader only, while the entirety of the day to day operations had been run by a Ms. Bonnie Rockwaller. Drakken, called to the stand, made a stirring declaration that he was a man of peace and only wanted to finish his mission for the world, his only mistake being to put too much trust in his staff. In the absence of evidence that Drakken had any connection with the kidnapping, the case was quickly dismissed.

As the room emptied she noticed Tashi point her out to Drakken, who strolled over, smiling broadly. He hadn't got within ten feet of her before she felt the presence of two very tall and very heavy men, at her side. SG, probably local subcontractors. Wasn't sure what game Shego was playing, but . . . well, it was something. From Drakken, she expected gloat: old traditions and all, but he played the Nobel Laureate part, at least in public. As he shook her hand, he leaned over, whispering so only she could hear. Walked away, quickly.

Leaving the courtroom, Tashi caught up with her. "What did I tell you? Now: I see us at Jeffrey's, say 6:30? By the way, please change into something sensible? And no spitting on the floor."

Kim wasn't listening; there was a face, a person, running up the courthouse stairs. "Kim! Girlfriend!"

"Monique? What are you doing here? In Austin?" She hugged Monique, maybe a little too hard and a little too long. Tashi walked past, threw out a 'Girl in every port, huh, Possible?" and walked straight to a waiting stretch limo: engulfed, she was gone.

"Kim! Hey, I got a car. How about lunch? Bonnie's trial isn't until two. We'll check out the new Club Banana concept store, just like old times."

Monique had a rented SmartCar; drove to The Domain, a gated, walled shopping center. A grounds crew, all very dark skinned under the hot skin, was sandblasting gang graffiti from the high stone walls. After the usual security checks, Monique's Club Banana corporate ID got Kim in as a guest.

The place was weird, designed to imitate an old European city street: elaborate false facades, like in movie sets, housing Lauren Black Label, Tiffany's, a bunch o' named designer labels and chain upscale eateries. Monique picked out a small place, a tea room, right next to the Club Banana store. "Let's grab a bite and talk."

Kim asked for white tea.

"What kind would you like?" But seeing Kim's perplexity, she added, "Most people just starting like the puerh. I'll bring a cup, see if you like it."

"There goes my cool."

"Kim: it's tea. How much cool is there?"

"Never mind. So what's with this store?"

"I dunno what corporate is thinking here: they must have built this mall before the warming really hit; no-one builds outdoors above ground malls anymore. Here's tea."

Different Monique, she thought as she sipped the tea: no more fashion and boys, Monique was acting all corporate executive. Kim wondered if she herself still sounded like she did in high school, if everybody had grown up but her.

"How's Rufus and the kids?"

"Rufus is doing great; he can hold his own nachos now. The kids are good; I guess they're teenagers now. You know: they grow up and break your heart. Speaking of, Kim, how's the girlfriend?"

She swallowed the wrong way and only discipline kept her from choking, all of which gave her a 'deer in headlights' look.

"You know? About me and Shego?"

Monique twisted in her seat a bit, gave Kim a look. "Probably everyone at the reunion, anyone who saw you together, knew. I mean, if they wanted to know."

"Ron?"

"Yeah, at least until he saw the picture. You heard from your mom?"

"If it isn't JAMA: Neurology, she doesn't read it. She did write me a nice long letter about how to start up a lab. You know: I think if this were 1950 and we were a normal family, it would have been soup recipes? So I guess I'm safe a little longer. How's Ron taking it?"

Monique looked up. "Just the lapsang souchong chickensalad, please. Kim?"

"Something light. Maybe the jasmine gravlax?"

Monique thought for a bit, drank her tea, thought a bit longer.

"Really lousy, if you want to know. I mean, it's not like it's my business."

"Monique. We used to be friends, remember?"

"And that's the only reason I'm here. OK, this is all from me: if I were Ron, I'd figure someone like you was way out of my league."

"I know that one." Kim added.

"Really? I don't think so. Anyway. Being friends and you not telling him, that'd make sense; how many kids are all that proud about bein' gay, hmm? But you date him, he has gotta wonder if you were just hiding the gay thing, you know, hiding behind him? Ron's all 'Oh that's why she never wanted' and then he's 'Because she thinks Shego is better than me' and then he's 'Maybe if I tried' and then 'Kids! Time for Bueno Nacho!' He's Ron. At least we know who he is. My take on you and me, that's a whole 'nother thing, and I don't think I'm goin' into that."

Well, at least that was more like the Monique she remembered, angry being better than cold. She tried some food.

"This place – it's really good. How'd it ever make it, with all these chainstores?"

Monique shrugged. "Something basic: people know what's real and true, and they'll find it. Speaking of."

Bonnie's trial was as quick as Drakken's, but opposite; she entered the courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit and looked beaten, which meant: worn, without hope, and bruised. The public defender was resigned to losing, and did little to challenge the prosecution's case. Except for an unfortunate character issue, asking the jury if this housewife could really be the evil mastermind of a mutimillion dollar swindle. With character introduced as a defense, prosecution was allowed to introduce Bonnie's criminal record, or at least Wade's version. She got the maximum ten years, with a parole hearing after three.

She did look at Kim as she was led out of the courtroom, but her face didn't register hate or resentment, just a forlorn 'help me'. It was a look Kim thought about, her flight back. Drakken cleared of all charges, Bonnie abandoned, taking the full rap. This had to go down with 'engineering disasters of the century' because it was so unjust, unfair, and she'd engineered it.

The call to Wade was brief and unpleasant, with Wade blaming her for what he called 'Shego's mood'. But she got the curse lifted from Bonnie, a digital exorcism, and maybe Bonnie would have a chance. Yet whatever demons had been released were as free as Drakken and still happily destroying Kim's own life.

Her first week back was odd: sleeping at the lab until her condo was free, it quickly became lab gossip that 'she'd 'broken up' with her 'new girlfriend'; people even chose sides. Moving in, trying to get basic furniture, pushed Shego even further from her mind. It was easy to forget. Besides, even if she called, what would she say? Nothing had changed. It was also easy to put in all her days at the lab; she even got out two new papers. Nights challenged her, and not only because the condo had no furniture. So nights became library-time, background reading in developmental biology. It filled her mind; it was enough.

"Hey! If it isn't Professor Kim, closin' down the library."

"Doctor Shenoa." Kim did a quick uncurl from the chairs she'd been using, shut down her iPad. Shenoa was a sixth year grad student they'd gotten to know, first week on campus: psychology, she kind of recalled. Also an 'out and proud' woman, and she'd built a casual, teasing friendship. Right this moment Shen was wearing black jeans, an overlarge, flowing red blouse, rings, and her black hair was loose, over her shoulders. Part Lummi and Squamish, her body type was about as unlike Shego's as they made 'em, and still she was curiously alluring.

"So how's the gf?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah. Alright, I'll buy you a drink."

"Dutch."

"No, Canadian. Molson, you heard of them? Come on, Kim, let up on it."

They hung at the bar, got their pints, Kim watching Shenoa. She'd be about thirty: a little older than Shego.

"So how come a nice young gal like you isn't home in bed? Your momma know you're hanging out with strange women?"

"Spent most of my cash for the condo; not enough left over to furnish it. Kind of a grim place to hang."

"Ah." Kim couldn't tell whether the 'ah' meant the beer tasted good, or if she was being psychologized.

"OK, Kim. Have a drink. Good, now another. You're about to get the lecture." Shen frowned, the first time Kim hadn't seen her smiling and happy. "You don't have to talk with me. I'm probably too close - they teach us psychologists to avoid 'dual relationships' and you are about as two-spirited as they come." Shen took a serious swig from her own beer. "But you ought to be talking to someone. If it isn't your parents" Kim swung her head "then friends or community or someone. You don't have to do this alone. Kim, you got this look on your face, says 'Lalala I can't hear you.'"

Shen made Kim laugh; she hadn't done that since.

"You got a minister? Shamaness? Guru? Kannushi?"

"Mom and dad are scientists, so we didn't do religion at home. Shego's into that stuff, though."

"I'm just saying it's something else you can try. Get you outside yourself. Got an idea."

Which was to write on a piece of paper. "This is a pretty good bookstore, and you can even get there with your Saturday morning run. Check it out, OK?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Ah, hell: you don't listen. Finish up, Prof; I'll walk you home."

It'd been a while since she noticed moon and stars, but the sky was so clear, it reached down to her. She whispered "It's so beautiful here. Let's go by the water."

They stood on a small hill: in back, a reconstructed Salish village with longhouses and totem poles; ahead of them, mountains water stars. "Location, location. My people had the best real estate in the world, huh?"

Kim put a tentative arm around her, then buried her face in her chest. Shenoa was taller than her, and she could smell her hair. "Hold me."

"No. Kim, this is a really stinky idea, it's gonna mess up a pretty good friendship and you're trembling; kid you got it bad. Gods, you feel good. Look: I need to stop. Believe me, we don't want to do this."

Shenoa disengaged, gently; stepped back. "Call me when you guys are back together; I'll cook you a traditional Squamish feast. No hard feelings, OK? Bye." Shen disappeared, blending into moonlit forest, and Kim was alone again.

Whatever was with her, she had a pretty good 'lesbian repellant' going. Probably couldn't sell it, though.

She lay down, watched the stars, like she did when she was twelve and dreamed of bigger things, something to challenge that infinite sky. And here it was only ten years later, and all she thought was making Shego notice. Once she had friends, family, and she saved the world.

Say it was Shego's fault; that'd be easy and Monique and Ron and everyone would let it go. She could have everything back.

Kim rolled over on her side. She curled up, to sleep under the stars, but they didn't want her either. Back to the condo.

Her second week back on campus, she got an 'urgent & personal' phone alarm. Even looking sent her pulse up; what if it was Shego and she wanted her back. Or it was Shego and she didn't?

The message, from the Dean of Natural Sciences, asked to see her, ASAP. Purpose of meeting unspecified. If the Dean had seen the Informer picture, was she going to lose her job?

The Dean's personal secretary, Maria, was a Polish-Canadian immigrant who always had a plate of chrusciki beside her desk, for visitors. She also had the solidity of a thousand years of peasant farmers behind her, outlasting occupation, communism, solidarnosc and European Union. Kim didn't even try exploring why the Dean wanted to see her; instead, she was shown into the Dean's office, where she waited judgment. Big office, more for impressing donors, probably. A wall of pictures; she expected presidents and things, but it was all family. Three little kids, with, must have been, grandparents. Husband, the two on vacation: she recognized Hong Kong.

The Dean surprised her, walking from some inner office; extended her hand. "Kim! I'm glad to finally meet you. The chair of Life Sciences was so excited when you joined us."

"Uh, Dean Rangley?"

"Mary Anne, please."

"This isn't about that picture, is it? I can explain."

The Dean sat back, crossed her legs, and smiled. "Oh, that picture! I'm always happy when I see our junior faculty putting down roots. How is your partner doing?"

"We're kind of going through a rough time right now. She didn't like my living near campus."

"Balancing family and work is hard for academics, but don't fret too much. My husband wasn't at all happy when he found he'd be sharing the child rearing. Of course, they're all grown and gone now. Give her time to adjust, Kim. And wait 'till you have children! Then the fun really starts."

"Ah, Dean . . . Mary Anne? If it wasn't about the picture . . . "

"Relax Kim. I like to get to know my faculty, and I do have a favor to ask you, but that's for later. I just got word from the Office of Institutional Development; the Americans told us that your grant has been fully funded. I think it was . . ." She got out an old-fashioned red leather-bound notebook, paged through. "Yes, two five million a year for five years, site visit at the end of year two. Kim: you're now one of our largest grants, and I wanted to tell you personally how proud we are of you. Come here for a moment, Kimberly."

The Dean led her to a window, overlooking the western part of the campus, with a view of mountains in the distance. She had this odd feeling, as though she were with her mother: The two weren't very different, except about Shego.

"Before I took this job, I was a researcher: early Chinese textiles, actually. Coming here, with a budget of two hundred million, was a shock. Administering a grant as large as yours can be just as disorienting. If you need someone to talk with, stop by."

"You mentioned a favor?" Stopping by was right up there with fingernails scratching a thousand blackboards; she didn't do 'help'.

"Yes. I glanced through your new paper . . . 'miRNA Regulation of Cdk1 Expression in Karyogamy.' As I understand it, the paper is about the first few moments . . . when the pieces of two individuals"

"Gametes"

"Yes, gametes, thank you. When the gametes merge to create a new life. I may be just a sentimental old anthropologist, but your work is about one of the most profound moments that makes us human. Don't bury it in technical words, Kimberly; share it with the world. I'd like you to deliver the first University Symposium Address this fall. Our most distinguished faculty tell the public about advances in scholarship. Think it over, and then tell me 'yes.'"

About then Maria knocked, said the departmental chairs were all present and waiting in the conference room, and . . .

And Kim wandered through campus. Odd images, flying through her mind like annoying insects. Herself, maybe thirty years on, in that vast office, a family picture with babies and Shego. Two point five million dollars. Oops: she bumped into an annoyed undergrad. Stockholm, with Shego standing beside her in an evening gown, wearing her laureate's medal. That one made her shiver, and she backed away.

How was she supposed to take space, with Shego always there?

Her lab was uncharacteristically dark. Cautious, she unlocked the door, entered covertly. Ten people with idiot grins, waiting to surprise her. They musta heard.

Nick, who she'd brought in from Pasteur, hugged her and said with his twisted Gallic smile, "You Americans and your millions of dollars. You try to buy everything!" Which, from him, was a complement. Lee, who was twenty six, a native Vancouverite, and whom she suspected of a very secret crush(served on the 'Kim forever' side of the breakup wars), hid in the background until Kim dragged her forward. "We need to talk about your future. Lee, I want to see you tomorrow morning about your new responsibilities."

The remainder of the postdocs, grad students and undergrad assistants pushed her into the Bug Room: she'd set it aside as a relaxation room for the lab, and never ever went in herself. She saw they'd decorated it with graphic color photos of bacteria, mating and reproducing, under a banner, 'Welcome to Life as a Sex Worker.' Three large pizzas, a case of Molson Canadian, and.

Shock. A dartboard, the picture of her and Shego dancing. Bullseye inked around Shego.

She gently removed a dart from Shego's chest, took down the picture, held it. She would have shouted, would have thrown the dart deep into a wall, but only said, so quietly that everything stopped: "This is someone I love."

"Weird love, Doctor, if she threw you out." It sounded like Lee but Nick quickly intervened. "So, a little tension is good for the relationship, n'est-ce pas? Come, let's play music, and eat and drink. I think Doctor Possible asks some time alone."

She left, changed at the condo. She'd take a late run, cross over the Burrard bridge, cross over to Shego's half of town. She'd run into her, tell her about the grant. Shego said she could come back. Even if Shego only just saw her, and knew why she was there.

As usual, as soon as she headed down Marine Drive, the car turned to follow. She'd accepted it for the last two weeks, but now she'd had enough: turning 'round, right into it, forcing a stop and she beat on the hood. A young man got out.

"Andy? Uh, Andy Chen, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, but Miss Shego said I had to. Also, she said to give you this."

It was a red envelope, the kind you use to give kids money on Chinese New Year, with an ideogram for good fortune on the front, and just so, it was stuffed with money. It had to be termination pay; there was no other reason. Shego had cut her out of SG, cut her out of her life. She tossed the envelope into Andy's lap.

"Tell her to keep her damn money."

"Ma'am, I don't have orders for that."

"Then just tell her, from me."

"Doctor Possible, please don't make me lose my job."

"Alright – you keep it. And stay away from me."

She went directly to the condo, poured a drink, then several. She wanted to hit something, to cry.

Instead she screamed, fell to her tatami, pounded the floor. Double handed pounding, screaming 'no' but knowing yes, it was over. At some point the crying stopped and the alcohol took over; she slept. And she'd lost her.

As things have their season, Kim's anger flowered then died. Maybe it was the simple knowing, that everything was over, releasing her. Or: Mom and Dad told her anything was possible but they never meant self-pity. So she restarted her life: with the SG money gone, she was short on cash; time to take up the lentils again. Beef stock instead of wine, and one last fling: new haircut, rings; kind of a declaration of freedom. She wanted a car, got a bike.

Shenoa's 'Saturday run' turned out to be a bookstore, and she biked down: Banyan Books, with religions packed in like sardines. She had zero religion growing up, now she was inhaling the dust of hundreds of 'em. The thought gave her a weirdie, but the store itself was light, airy, and calming. Figuring: Shego'd got religion in Japan, and she practiced meditation, so the logical place to start was by asking at the desk. A woman her own age with a rainbow eyebrow piercing showed her to the Zen section. She wandered a bit, grabbed a book on Theravada Buddhism, found a corner.

'All is illusion (maya).'

"Life is suffering. Love is suffering; yearning is suffering. To act is to cause suffering.'

'Non-action is the means to end suffering.'

It was hard going; nothing made sense. If it were a cell biology paper, she'd know where to go, how to figure it out herself. Probably why people had gurus. Even Shego had a sensei.

From there, over to Jericho Beach. She didn't have Shego's curves, but youth hath privilege too; she figured she could handle a 'sexy' two-piece swimsuit, her first. She got some looks, which felt pretty good.

That was mostly everything there was to do at the beach: look good. She did happen to have a pile of research papers on her iPad, tho. But the waves were like a mantra, setting her mind free, if that's what mantras were supposed to do.

Look at it one way, half her life was illusion. All of Austin, anyway. And love was pain, huh? She got hurt, one way and another. Still . .

"Monique? Sorry if I'm interrupting.

"Yeah, I'm cruisin' on the beach, can you believe that?

"We broke up. Anyway, she left me. Not calling to whine.

"You. I was just missing you, wanted to hear your voice, see how you're doing.

"You closed it down? Good, that place just felt bad. No Banana vibes. And I know my Bananas.

"Yeah, mom's coming up maybe this summer. I was kinda wondering if you'd visit? I got an extra bedroom, and there's Olympic-class skiing. Really? Wow: I'll start planning. Smiles, girlfriend; I'm excited.

"You think he's ready? I could just invite the kids and he'd come, you think? Have to see what Shego thinks.

"Oops. Yeah, I guess I'm still not over, huh?

"Love you too. Bye."

So that's what was going on; her brain figured, with their thing over, right now was the perfect time to win Shego back. Devious brain, she had. She napped; the warmth felt good. Biked back up along beach roads; wind off the ocean, feeling like first day of summer vacation: infinite promise. Vancouver so exciting that she wanted to tell someone.

Back on campus, she looked up Shenoa, who surprised her: when she apologized, she got, in return, a tight hug, friendship regained. Like water for champagne, but reminding her how love felt.

"Like that haircut, Kim; you're getting the hang of this dyke thing."

"'Dyke,' now, am I? So what are you telling me?"

"I think I'm sayin', how 'bout a beer and a talk?"

"No beer and stuff, right now. I have a feeling I'll be needing a clear head, wherever I'm going to wind up."

"Hmmph! First time I ever been turned down. But I like it, I like it. You're lookin' good; I see you're wearing those freedom rings. So I guess you're out, now, huh? You look fit and you're taking care of yourself. Whatever path you're on, it's a good one."

"It feels good; I mean, like I have my life back."

"And knowing what feels right for you is ninety percent of it. So, when are you and Shego comin' over for dinner?"

"Next Tuesday never. She dumped me."

"Really? Well, well. Hence the 'out and available' look."

"Yeah. Well, I have to go. Thanks for . . . being a friend."

"Yeah. I gotta go make some calls too. Watch out for strange women. If you see any, send 'em over here."

The next day was Sunday, and she figured another trip to Banyan couldn't hurt; maybe find something to tell her where she was going. She asked the woman at the desk for books about illusion.

"What kind? Like magic?"

"No, more like between people."

"Oh, relationships. I know that one. C'mon, I'll show you. My name's Laurie, by the way."

"Kim. Thanks for all the help."

Laurie led her to a small 'Gay & Lesbian Interest' section, and picked out a book by someone named 'Rich', about Lies and Secrets. Right next to a book about lesbian sex. When Laurie'd gone, she snuck that one out too. Way too vivid: she was pretty sure she couldn't handle a lot of the things the book showed. If that's what being lesbian meant, she was gonna lose her membership card really fast.

She turned back to the lying thing. This time, she understood too much. People lie with the things they say and the things they don't say. The liar wants to make everything easier for herself, and when she did that, she was really keeping Shego from getting to know her. And how could any love happen, if she hid things from Shego?

The words burned. Laurie came over to check on her 'Kim, are you OK?'; returned with a cup of tea. "Honeysuckle white; my favorite."

It took another week for Kim to decide 'time to learn some meditation;' she biked down to Banyan and, as though she'd been waiting, Laurie came over, asked if she wanted to do a runecast. They sat opposite, on the floor, and Laurie spilled out a collection of stones with magical markings, said it was an alphabet of forgotten European languages, maybe even from before the ice ages. But they still were symbols of power and if she read them, they'd help focus her energies. Whatever.

Her pick turned out to be Laguz. Laurie read from a book,

"Laguz symbolizes the terrifying things hidden deep within our subconscious minds, the roots of personality and being."

But another book said 'Laguz symbolizes the moon, that which draws us together.'

"Which is it?"

"Well, it isn't supposed to tell you right out. You have to decide what applies in your life. I could give you a hint, though. There's a concert, coming up, it's called 'Fire Water Earth Air: First Women.' They got Sharon Burch, an' Ulali, even Ferron."

"I know that name."

"Yeah, only like the goddess of lesbian music. I got an extra ticket; wanna come?"

With that settled, Laurie got a brainstorm: "Let's do the Spirit Cards."

"Like ouija boards?"

"No, like First Nations. Their spirits are all over this place, and we can call on their wisdom." She took out a deck of cards, shuffled, spread 'em. "Now you pick one."

It did give Kim the sense that she was part of some confidence game, but she choose: picture of two hides, drawn back to show stars. It was called 'Origin' and probably didn't mean the big bang. But with Laurie, who knew?

Kim never did find out about meditation, and biking back to the University, she saw Shenoa.

"Yo, Kim. Yeah, nobody's ever seen me in daylight; they think I'm some kind of skinwalker. You look happy."

"I got asked to this 'Fire Water" concert. You know anything about it? The bands?"

"Yeah. The acts are fantastic; it's gonna be right on Third Beach, and I got two tickets. No date, though. So – you just giving up on Shego, huh?"

"She threw me out, then she fired me. You really think I can spoil that relationship?"

"How about I buy you a cola?"

"Gave that up too. I'll take a sports drink; I could use some rehydrating."

Shenoa looked sidewise at her, as they walked to the Union. "You sure you two not still an item? You sound just like her."

Kim locked up her bike, put the helmet under her arm, opened the door for Shenoa.

"Wow, look at you: all out and opening doors for wimmin. Can't say I'm surprised you got a date; you're plenty pretty and probably never be alone. You're how old?"

"Age speeds up; I'm a quickly decaying twenty-three."

"And Shego's twenty-eight: not bad. Well, Kim, you could spend the rest of your life bed hoppin'. That what you want?"

"Don't hold back, there, Shen: you don't approve, or what?"

Shen looked at Kim again, got a bottle of Molson and a Gatorade from the bar, sat and looked some more. She was headed to making one intimidating psychologist.

"Shen? Come on. I thought we were friends."

"That's just it: we are, and . . . see, it's that 'dual relationships' thing again. The professional part of me sees you getting your life together, moving on and adjusting to being queer." She took a long pull from the bottle, eased down in her chair, and cradled the beer.

"The friend side remembers seeing you with Shego; you guys looked like - I mean, you're good with each other, like you been together years."

Kim shook her head, back and forth.

"You're doing it again, Kim, your 'I won't hear you.' I know you two got a lot to work out, but both of me are telling you the same thing: work it out."

"She can call me if she wants to reach me."

"I gotta work on my fee schedule; you should be paying me for this. Kim, Shego isn't your verbal type; she understands physical stuff. You're the one with the relationship skills. Just talk with her, will you?"

"I do owe you, don't I? How about coming over some night for one of my famous lentil stews?"

"No wonder you look thin. Get maybe some animal or fish protein and brown rice; keeps you grounded: you don't wanna start hallucinating. Take care of yourself, Kim."

_June: vision quest_

So she kept her promised date: why not? It wasn't like Shego would hit some lesbian-feminist folk gathering. Kim dressed to match the women she saw at the store: worn brown cotton-linen shorts, wrinkled; overlapping t-shirts in different colors, sandals. Laurie picked her up at seven, from the bookstore, drove her over the bridge.

"Sorry about the car. My parents bought it for me. They didn't even like ask me."

"Chevy isn't your style?"

"Are you kiddin'? I want a pickup."

"Very . . . uh, organic. So what do you do?"

"The bookstore isn't really me; I'm writing. Short stories, about being young and lesbian in Vancouver. There's a lot, right?"

"I haven't been out that long."

"Really? You look like you seen a lot of action. What you do?"

"I'm, uh, working at the University. UBC."

"Cool; I like it there. I could stop for lunch. What kind of thing are you into?"

Into. OK. "I'm a professor of molecular biology; I work on micro RNA regulation of cell function. Really I started with metabolism but I got into regulation of how the cell picks up phase two of meosis after"

"Sorry I asked. You know any of the bands, tonight?"

It kind of closed off conversation as Laurie drove them round the seawall, to Third Beach. They parked, walked down the cliff. Tide was out, providing a natural arena: apparently, people doing a 'fire water earth air' concert knew their tides. Good breeze, too; a chance she might enjoy the date.

First act up was Sharon Burch. Kim wasn't sure she heard the words right: 'she was fifty when I was three/she was twenty when I was three." Looked puzzled and Laurie whispered 'it's about her mother and grandmother.' Whatever it was, Burch was having an intense performance, alternating English and Navajo, elated and mournful: Kim was carried along. A line, stretching back, family, to be part of something: a path, a future.

While the next act set up, she leaned back into the sand, looked out at the bay. Six or seven giant container ships anchored a few klicks offshore; with the sun setting, their lights cast a warm glow. The song, waves, breeze and lights were mellowing. Laurie reached over, pulled her necklace from under her tee. "What's this thing?"

Bad move; Kim had her down, on her face, arms pinned: maybe three seconds, flat. Laurie went 'blurf,' spitting sand while Kim got off, helped her up.

"Jesus, Kim: what was that?"

"No touch. Got it?"

"Whatever. Asshole." She got up, wobbled over to the drinks stand. Kim spotted Shenoa nearby, waved her over.

"Too young for you, Kim."

"Didn't ask, and actually she's the same age as me."

"Scientist; it figures: you guys think age is measured by numbers. Speakin' of that, the baby-dyke look does not suit you, Professor. Do like those killer moves, though."

"I better apologize again, huh?"

"For all I know, the kid liked it. Shego thought it was hilarious."

"Not funny, and . . . WHAT!"

"Yeah; up there, headin' to the parking lot."

The muscles from biking really helped; she sprinted up the steep stairs, just in time to see a convertible and a very recognizable head of black hair, pulling onto the main road.

She had enough presence of mind to wash her face before returning to the concert. Walking back down the steps, she recognized the singer's voice. Stopped where Shen stood, but she just whispered "Ferron. Vision quest." When the song finished, Kim asked "Why'd she keep saying 'where does the eagle live in me'?"

"My guess – she's on this vision quest, right? And thinks the eagle is her spirit animal. Tells her who she is, who she can be. But she doesn't feel 'eagle,' doesn't see herself soaring high and seeing clear. So she can't become who she needs to be, until she understands it."

"Oh."

"There used to be bald eagles all 'round the coast. Pretty rare, now."

"So should I go make up with Laurie?"

"Not much on First People's cultures, huh? My twenty says you walk out of here, alone."

She walked onto the beach, knelt by Laurie. "I really am sorry."

"Are you some kind of police?"

"More 'secret agent.'"

"So, miss 'I haven't been out long:' that was your ex, wasn't it? She gave you that jade thingie you always wear. I wish you woulda just been honest. Far as I care, you can walk home. Introduce me to your friend over there, too; you owe me."

Kim chose to walk back by way of beach. This time of night, she had it mostly to herself and the waves. So the date was a disaster: Shego had seen her and Shen said she was laughing, so it could still be. With the tide way out, she took off her sandals, walked on the virgin sand, wet her feet. Inuksuk: she'd totally forgotten the stone guide, and she could use a clear sighting on her path. But the statue still just pointed to Coal Harbour and Point Grey, Shego and UBC. Maybe Shenoa was right about numbers, because the two felt as far apart as Paris and Vancouver used to be.

She got as far as Burrard Bridge, when Andy pulled the car in front of her. "Just get in; not only is this dangerous for you, but after she fires me she'll hurt me. So don't argue. By the way, I'm supposed to give you this. You know, if you did your address change at SG, I wouldn't have to deliver stuff."

"Then Shego'd find out where I live."

"Oh, and she doesn't know, huh? Right, whatever."

An official SG envelope; opening it she found: May pay stub. No sense: she wasn't on the payroll. The form listed a May 15 'advance on recruiting bonus(cash)'; a June 1 'remaining recruiting bonus (direct deposit'); June 1 'salary for period May 1 to May 31' and a year to date, blah blah.

"What is this?"

"Looks to me like a pay stub. Mine does anyway. Whoa! That's your recruiting bonus? Wow. I mean, I heard they wanted you bad, but. Hey! You mean I been carrying that much cash around with me? Kim! I mean, sorry, Doctor Possible, that isn't safe."

"You still got the envelope? Let me see." She opened the red envelope, with the 'good fortune' ideogram on the front, pulled out all the cash. Hundred dollar bills, and when she unfolded them, a small piece of paper fell out. It had that heavy stationary feel. "Could you turn on the dome light?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"Hush."

Expensive stationary, kind of a light teal, maybe green. She'd never seen Shego's handwriting before: angular, precise, quick. It fit her. She took deep breaths, thought about meiosis. The note was in different inks so Shego probably wrote it over hours or days.

_Kim_

_advance on your recruiting bonus. don't worry SG charges interest. _

_you could use it decorate your new place. _

_can I see it_

_Kim miss you. _

She dialed Shego's private number. Got Maggie instead. "Hey, what's up?"

"Shego asked me to screen your calls. Call. What do you want, Kim? I really hope it's good."

"I need to talk with her. Tell her I want to see her, OK?"

"Yeah. By the way, Possible: most of us like to do some work to earn our fat salaries. You're supposed to be shadowing me. I'm gonna drop next month, so you mind coming in, sooner or later?"

"Sooner if you get that message to Shego."

"Threats, yet. From all of us here, good luck with your Shego thing."

Then nothing happened. Kim was so over waiting; she'd make things happen, and Shego couldn't avoid her forever. Every afternoon, she ran the seawall. Ran Shego's pace but faster; she'd find her.

When the tide was out, she ran along the beach. Waves, gulls, crunch of shell, soft wet sand: intensely physical. The third evening, a pier of rocks stretched into the bay; balancing carefully, she walked out to deep water. Ms. Doctor Scientist, she got out her iPad, made a list.

Fun. No, put that later. Someone to feel safe with, play with. Shopping good too.

Didn't need lots of money or Egyptian cotton sheets. Mutual respect good, too. Spiritual. She liked the sound of that. Fit, yeah: and good looking would be nice.

Stupid: she was describing Shego because she wanted Shego. Worse: she'd deliberately picked qualities Ron didn't have. Trying to convince herself when she already knew.

Start over: who was Kim? Ambitious. Driven, successful. Dynamic, that's what she wanted to be. Maybe someone else could do all that too, but Shego fit exactly, and they even got along.

Doing research, she learned the hard part of any problem is just the last one you figure out. She put the iPad away, scrunched down with elbows on her knees and chin in her hands, looked out over the bay. In the near distance, the Hanjin container ship that'd been sitting offshore had started moving, into port. She'd gotten into a silly habit of waving hello at the ships, and pretty much always got the crew waving back. This one was too far away, though the sea swell would probably hit her in a few minutes.

When she was thirteen, about three months before her first period, her mom took her to the hospital for a full check up; then she had to sit in her mom's office, like a patient. Thirteen, and she remembered her mom sitting behind a big desk, with medical books and computers. She said: "In a few months, Kim, you're going to be an adult, and you'll be responsible for making some choices. I want you to understand those choices, and what the consequences are." She went on for seeming hours: physical anatomy, reproductive anatomy, sexual response, STD's, pregnancy, hormone therapy and endometrial cancer, which seemed over-the-top, but as things developed, mom was way ahead of the curve. She smiled; it was too rare, remembering how much she admired her.

What she remembered most was being treated like an adult (say a third-year medical student), and also a sudden comprehension: yes, this is how it all worked and so many weird things made complete and total sense, like a view into a parallel universe that somehow controlled her own.

It'd been about ten years, which now seemed amazing. In retrospect she understood that mostly what she learned about then, and in all of high school, was about boys: dating boys, sex with boys, how to get a boy, how to please a boy, how to not get diseases from boys, how to not get pregnant from a boy: none of which, as it turned out, had much application to her life. Loving a woman really was a parallel dimension, with no clear sight.

Shen called her a dyke and everyone called her gay and even big-time lesbians were hitting on her for dates so how could she not be? She'd laid in Shego's arms, and felt complete.

The wave from old Hanjin had finally rolled its way to her, splashing a leg. She stood, just in time to greet a large wave, which soaked her from waist down. Enough: she headed to the beach, to dry off. At least her electronics were dry, though the wet rocks were now slippery, and she had to pick her way carefully back to shore.

What was that spirit card? 'Origin.' She remembered a painting like that at d'Orsay –'Origin of the World.' Remembered it because it was especially obscene, kinda like the lesbian sex book. So 'origin' was the great mystery. How do you face that? Maybe with a leap of faith: however it would happen, her and Shego would make it together as a couple. Trusting things to work out by themselves wasn't exactly her personal style; 'micromanagement' was a word she heard a lot, in the lab. But if faith is what it took to win back Shego, she'd work harder on her faith.

She woke the next day with an extraordinary sense of well being, decided mornings were a perfect time for walking the seawall. She cut across the park, past the totem poles and Shego was just standing there, holding a cup of hot chocolate. Fumbling with the lid, but her voice was hard. "So: I'm here. Talk, Kim."

"Not here."

"Why? Good enough for me."

"Because it's sacred."

Shego set her drink down and it spilled; Kim saw it pooling, smelled coffee, but Shego grabbed her arms, held her steady, looked in her eyes. "What?"

She could be tough too; defiant: "I first met you, here. Whatever happens to us, I'll always remember. This place is sacred to me."

She'd looked right back at Shego and been defiant.

Except for the tears. Also when Shego said "You idiot" and grabbed her, held her tight, she broke down. When Kim was almost done sobbing, Shego said,

"Alright, Kim. I'm halfway to forgiving you, so cut it out."

"Half?" she said into Shego's shoulder.

"You win: I'm totaled. Possible, if it gets out that I go all weak like this…."

"Safe." Both of them.

"Kim?" Shego whispered. "I still need to talk serious. Can we walk somewhere? Hey, wait! Get back here!"

Kim had pulled back, but Shego grabbed her, swung her 'round, so they were walking with Shego's arm around her waist. Shego did let go the few minutes needed to clean up her coffee, then took retook Kim's waist, while they walked up to a new place, a path she'd never taken. They were silent; Kim leaned into Shego, who just had a shy kind of smile. They stopped, stood alone at the top of a small hill, and Shego took both her hands, got serious.

"It really hurt, when you didn't even bother to read my note."

"I thought the envelope was termination pay, thought you fired me. I thought it meant we were over."

"Kim. I already said, 'you idiot', right? We got that covered?"

"I'm sorry, Shego. And about the date. Too."

"Shenoa made me come with as her 'date,' tryin' to cheer me up. Burch was great, then I saw you. Kim, you looked so bored, and you wouldn't even let the kid touch you. First smile I had in weeks. By the way, what was she doing, messing between your breasts?

"You don't need to know."

"Well, nice moves on her, I kinda remember you did the same to me, 'round about here. Oh, by the way: too young for you."

"I got a free concert out of it. Good first couple of songs. Uh, Shego, are you OK with this?"

"If we'd gone together we coulda both heard the whole thing. Just . . . Kim: you shouldn't be dating women like that. Remember who you are, right?"

"Sure. Who?"

"Well, to start you're my girlfriend; the rest you figure out. No dating. Damn: that's bossy. Sorry."

"Are we back together now?" It'd happened so fast, Kim actually didn't know.

"Don't get weird, Possible." Shego looked at her, then looked: "Kim are you OK?"

"No. Don't feel so good."

"Can you make it over, that bench? Hellwithit." Shego picked her up, set her on a park bench.

"I feel – like I was hyperventilating."

"Here ya go; head between your legs."

"Better."

"You want to rest? You been fasting or something?"

"No. A little. Yes. Just, it's like a dream."

"So I make you lightheaded, huh."

"Get over yourself. I didn't say a good dream," she added. But she did get up, and they resumed their walk together, with Shego a little less frantic about holding on to her, and Kim a little more subdued. "Where are we, Shego? What is this place, anyway?"

"Aquarium. Actually a nice place; we gotta go sometime. Better if you take a couple of kids though. Say four and seven, are good ages." Shego seemed to be just babbling. They were back, as a couple: Shego happily making snarky remarks.

"And you know this because?"

"Most of my people have kids. I babysit, keep my hand in the game. You know."

"Apparently a lot about you, I don't."

"If we were still living together you would."

"It wasn't about breaking up. I never wanted to break up. Just we'd have our own places. I'd stay over half of the time and"

"And I'd stay at your place the other half. I'm an idiot."

"It'd be romantic, you know, coming over to your place and you'd know I was there to see you and"

"I get it, Possible. Like I said, I'm an idiot."

They'd hit the marina, passing tour boats and trophy yachts. "Hey, Shego: does SG own a yacht?"

"Why? The investors already have their own. If you want, I could get us one. A little one. You sail? We could go up Indian Arm; show you Deep Cove."

"No. That's kind of it, the whole thing. You're . . . you know. You have your own company, and you're rich and the Nobel. You have all this original art and Egyptian cotton bedsheets which I just found out what they cost. Shego: it's really hard for me to compete. You buy me all this expensive stuff; I can barely pay for lentils. I need my own place. I love you, boyoboy do I, but sometimes you're hard to take."

"Oh."

"I was hoping for some wisdom, make me all at peace. Like when you meditate?"

"That's something different; tell you someday. But wisdom, huh? Here's my best shot: get over it."

Kim was shocked, for a second, because Shego was always easy on her. Alright:

"Hai! sensei."

"Very funny, Kim. Look: The only smart part of me is my mouth, but you're shortlisted for the next MacArthur genius award thingie. Yeah, I have a little money, but what's that really mean? It's not like I'm finding the secret of life; that's what you do you.

"And I don't get why you hafta 'compete.' That's part of our past, I want that part of our past to be over. You good with that?"

"No. Maybe. I have to think."

"One thing, small bug."

"Shego, that's 'grasshopper'."

"I said 'small bug'. I'm not after some lesbian fling."

"You're talking about my haircut, now. Don't dis the cut, Shego."

"Wasn't. Actually, I like it; very urban. But I was trying to be serious?"

"Yeah, knock yourself out; be serious."

"I mean, I'm as homoflexible as the next girl, but I'm in this for the long run. So I want someone I respect, look up to. Money and prizes and all that are nothing. Who you are, your core Kim, is everything. That's the only and best spiritual advice I know."

The yachts ended; they climbed terraced steps, towards One Harbour Green. Million dollar views, fine art, soft bedsheets: the things she put up with for love. Shego interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey! Half time your place, half time mine, right?"

"Yeah, kind of like a city house and then a country house."

"I was hoping more for a ski-lodge. So one day, every week, is left over, right? So what about that day?"

"I was thinking you take me out on the yacht. Or wherever you take your billionaire investors."

"Oh, I get it: I'm too wealthy for you, so you want a yacht. Good thinking, genius."

"It'd be like a date. OK to spend money on dates, right?"

"Lemme check. 'Yeah, First here. We got an opening at Wikinnish? What? Hold.'

"Kim, why are you giving me those faces? Oh I get it. 'First here: cancel that. Out.' Look, Kim, if it's your period, just say it."

"Umm . . not exactly. I do want to go with you. I mean: wow. But I also want you to see the condo."

"That's it? Yeah, sure."

"No. Not no, I mean, I want something else. Too."

"You can forget about coffee. I'm just telling you."

"I want you to bring a bag, stay overnight. And leave stuff, like a toothbrush, and things, and clothes. And sometimes when I'm working there I want you to walk in just like it's your place you don't have to phone or anything. That's what I want."

"Sad, when a great mind falls apart like that." Shego gave her a pitying look, spoke into her wrist. 'Car for UBC.' Then, to her: "Car'll take you back. And I will be there, say seven-thirty. And I will leave traces. Stuff all over the floor." Took her, kissed her. Which she never did.

Exactly seven thirty, Shego pulled up, outside her condo. Wearing red, driving a greenish Lexus convertible. "Hydrogen fuel, Shego?"

"Know someone who knows someone," Shego said, as she handed Kim the keys. "That bicycle isn't you."

"I was thinking motor scooter. Shego, this is exactly what I meant about expensive presents."

Shego looked deflated for a second, then came back with "So the yacht is off, too? Just kidding. Damn, so now I'm stuck with the Lexus." Smiled at her, as she got hit by another idea. "How about a Vespa? House-warming present?"

"If you must. Serious: it is a good idea; I wanna pick the color. I'm liking greens a lot, these days. Oh, yeah before I forget: like that red blouse."

"So I hear."

"Now stop fooling around and come inside. Stand here, and"

"Kim: I know how retinal scan works. No, don't tell me." She keyed in a '12-11-12' security password, and the door opened.

"You said I wasn't being followed."

"You used our first date for the passcode: you think I wouldn't figure that out? And, that 'following you' thing? it was only once, at the beach. Kim how come you never go beachbathing with me? And wear that cute new two-piece? Said too much, huh. Anyway I'm not following you; that's Andy Chen's job. Nice place."

Just as Kim expected, Shego went straight to the window, overlooking English Bay and the North Shore mountain range. "Is it OK?"

"Nice. Short on furniture, tho." Shego gestured, to a place in front of the window. "I'd like to be sitting right about here, watching the sun go down. Us."

"Me too. I kind of ran out of money, but if you have time, we could go out tomorrow and get something comfortable. It's your place too, now. You know." It felt a little weird and she was holding her breath, not sure how Shego would react.

"So, can I see our bedroom? Nice mattress. Egyptian cotton sheets, I see. Kim: I don't think I ever underestimated you, but. Uh, I don't know how to finish that. But, I like this place. Home."

"Mostly I got it for the mountain view. I wanted you to like it."

"Oh, and you don't like mountains water and sky?"

"It felt kind of lonely. Some reason."

"We'll take care of that. So, what's the rest of the place?"

"Well, here's your room and bath in case you get mad at me again."

"Ha ha. What's this in the dining room?"

What it was: champagne, in a wine cooler, plates of food; fresh baked bread, some chocolate pastries, a few handmade Belgian chocolates.

"Sorry: no programmable built-in hot chocolate maker like your place. Oh, you mean the food: Nick brought it over. You know, the guy I hired from Pasteur."

"Odd. Cuz it looks like a seduction dinner." Shego picked up the champagne, unwrapped the foil. "I didn't know Moet did a non-alcoholic. Nice choice, Kim. Hey! These are spotted prawns. Mmm. Now who else knows I love spotted prawns? You wanna tell me again, who set this up?"

"I guess I did."

"Yeah. Candles too. So, Kim: is it a seduction dinner, or not? I'm just asking."

She could read between a line, and Shego's relentless question hurt. But when had hiding from her ever worked?

"Seduction is exactly what I had in mind. I'm . . . OK, I'm not sorry. I've waited a long time, and you can't blame me for trying."

Shego nodded, said "points for trying," handed her a glass of bubbly. "Sun's going down." She took Kim's hand, walked back to the mountain view, and they sat with their champagne glasses, on the floor, back to the wall, Shego leaning into Kim. Watched the sun set; didn't talk. Kim saw the sun throw a beautiful glow over Shego's skin; she pulled away for a better view, and Shego stopped her, rolled Kim onto her back, and, leaning over, kissed her.

A very short while later, Shego whispered, quietly, hesitantly: "C'mon. It'll be better in bed."

The rest of the night was sacred, and silent. Other than some very unexpected and loud noises from Shego.

Kim woke a little before Shego. Not much point in modesty anymore, but she put on a shirt, felt more comfortable. As promised, Shego's clothes were all over the floor.

As promised? Shego knew what they'd be doing; planned it all along. Kim smiled. Alright; the challenge was on.

Breakfast in bed: "Kim, is this granola? and yogurt?"

"Made the yogurt myself."

"Yeah, I see that." Shego smiled weakly, and Kim left the room, returned with a second tray. Chocolate croissants, Irish butter, orange blossom honey from Murcia, and a cup of Mayan Gold hot chocolate.

"You know, Possible, someday your sense of humor is gonna get you in serious trouble. What's this?"

Shego picked up a thin box, inlaid with an amber-colored burled walnut. Opened: a slip of paper with gold leaf inscription, 'Golden City Jewelry, R. R. Huang, Proprietor.' Lifting that, a two-carat, square cut emerald, set in gold. Shego held it up, against the light streaming into their bedroom.

"Kim."

"I missed your birthday, so I wanted something special. Is it . . ."

"Kim, you know damn well the emerald is perfect, and I been looking for this for a couple of years, so how did you get it?"

"Are you mad at me?" Then she saw Shego was tearing up, and went for it. "I know some people who know some people too, you know. I did a thing for the Maharana of Rajapoor, a few years back. She said, if"

"Kim: shut up."

Well, anyway: just holding Shego worked too. When Shego'd recovered and let out a sigh sounding like contentment (could that really be?), Kim asked "How about a run? I found some places for us, and I've been waiting a month to show you."

"Running gear, I didn't bring."

"You could use mine."

"This is all your fault. Seduction dinner."

"I really didn't know how I could make it any clearer to you."

"I'll take your questions in order. First, you haven't got an exercise bra my size. Do you? Thought so. Some evil seductress you are.

"Second. I been waiting like years for you to ask me to bed. Long, cold, lonely years. My years beat your month: I win: we stay here and make love more." Then she dropped the attitude, crept ontop of Kim, said "Please?"

They did actually make it out of the door before noon. Kim had to check the status of the experiments, so bringing Shego to the lab was natural. Her people were amazingly quiet, except for Nick, who believed to the bottom of his soul that every moment with a beautiful woman was a gift. He and Shego made friends while Kim and Lee sorted out the overnight results, and what experiments had to be run that day.

They walked through campus together, Kim leading her past the Asian Center, to Nitobe Gardens. The Japanese garden teased her, with its orchestrated peace and designed naturalness, and when they stood in front of the pond with blossoming lotus and stone lantern, Shego stood in back, arm around her waist and hand at her shoulder.

"So what did Drakken tell you, after the trial?"

"Wow, you are a romantic."

"Kim: you probably figured out that I have the advantage here, and I have no moral qualms about using it. Which is it: you tell me now, or I tickle you and you tell me anyway?"

"And I trusted you."

"Yeah, well, it's the ones you trust, hurt you most. I know."

"He did that stupid thing he always does: 'Kim Possible, you think you're all safe. But you're not.' Then the building was supposed to collapse on him except it didn't."

"See? Now wasn't that easy?" Shego didn't let go, but she did get out her phone. "I want double security on Possible, starting now. That's crap, Maggie; don't give me that. Yeah? So hire; time for Andy to get into training anyway."

"Shego? Are you going to shout at me like that?"

"I have never shouted at you. Besides: I only lose it when someone puts Kim in danger. Mostly."

"Aha. You were getting a little protective, those last few months with Drakken."

Shego let go her waist, said nothing. They crossed the bridge, stood, looked out over the pond. Like the garden, she saw the rhythms of their relationship: yesterday, all bright talky, afraid about what they'd almost lost. Slower, in the evening, anxious and still a little unsure. Solemn when they made love and yes, sacred. So just walking on campus was like a snapshot, pasted into some album, of the ease they used to have. And like the garden, it was a kind of an orchestrated illusion: if you don't talk about anger, you wind up over there, watching sudden dragonflies skimming the pond. If you talk about sex, who knows what cliffs you fall over?

But then . . . she had that jade at her neck. Say she dropped it; it'd shatter and be lost. She could keep it in a box: bank vault, probably, or wear it, always near her heart. Shego and her were walking scared, afraid of breaking what they had. Shego deserved more from her than just that.

"You're quiet. I think you knew, even then. Is that what you meant about waiting years for me?"

"No. Yes. It wasn't sexual, Kim. After you started really hitting on me, then yeah."

"You make it sound sleazy. Also I never hit on you."

"Kim: you were what? Seventeen? Eighteen? I was twenty three. I'm no perv."

"One thing I tell you right now, Shego: if we ever make it together. I hate, hate, hate being treated like a kid. So this better be good."

"Leave it alone, Kim. You won't understand and you're just gonna get madder."

"Kid."

"Alright: you asked for it. By the way . . . if anyone, ever, ever, finds this out; if you breathe a word of this – you'll pay."

"Got it."

"When I met you: in my head, this picture of a feisty kid standing up to me, giving back everything I hit her with, sarcasm extra. I just never met anyone like her."

"And?"

"And I really liked that kid, and I figured, life had screwed me, again. I'd never have normal things, like friends, buddies; hang out. Because the only person who would ever understand me, all we could do was trade moves."

"Oh. Me." She had a feeling where this was going, and suddenly she understood: they should have dropped it. But by now, like a little monster, it had a life of its own.

"Then I get hit by Miss Go. You and me even liked each other. I get to have just a taste of what it could be like with you, and Stoppable gets to do jealous. Now I'm double screwed, because now I know what I missed."

"I knew it! I knew you liked me. I just wished you'd admit it. But I never put moves on you. Either."

"The dojo in Middleton. Not a bad fake-out, but that lingerie show was over the top."

"I was embarrassed."

"Kim: when a woman's embarrassed she hides things; puts on her blouse first. You did that long slow thing, pulling on your jeans and then buttoning up that blouse. You were showing off."

She thought she'd got away with it; she could feel her face redden, and she felt silly.

"I saw Julie do it to Sandrine. It worked for her."

"Here I'm trying to live a sane life, and you start pole dancing with your jeans. I'd been celibate for like six years. Possible, you have no idea what you did to me."

"I . . . you know. Celibate, but it didn't mean anything. I mean, I wish I had a some kind of spiritual path. Like you."

"Kim, don't go looking up to me for that. Because that is about as far from reality."

"I do admire you. I wish, sometimes. You know? I get so lost."

"We need to talk. Sit here, next to me." A convenient path, with irregular and uncomfortable set stones; they sat on the ground, and Shego went on: "You change just one little piece, and it all falls apart. There's something you need to know about me." Shego gave Kim a kind of weak smile.

A sudden fear came over her. Shego had dropped the smart talk, the bravado, everything. All her stuff, and here she was, just herself. Like naked.

"You don't have to, Shego. I'm OK with who you are."

"You don't even know who I am."

"Couldn't we talk about something easier, like sex?"

"You're great in bed, I want more, end of subject. Look: like or not, Kim, we're family. You oughta know something about the girl you're going to marry.

"You know the family story: meteorite, rays, alien powers."

"Yeah. Don't know how the 'ray' thing works, but"

"That's because it isn't a ray thing: nice story, but the biology is backwards. There's a virus, extraterrestrial. The rays activate it, alright, but then . . . Nothing wrong with an alien virus, huh? I mean, it coulda been herpes, right?"

"Is it contagious? Have you talked with a doctor?"

"Off and on. We don't know, but our best guess, it needs those special frequencies. So: not an STD; you're safe."

"What are the symptoms?"

"Green skin, special powers. It lives off adrenalin, cortisol, a whole range of stress hormones. It excretes . . . let's be accurate . . . the viral waste products gave me my powers."

"Uh . . . everyone has symbiotic viruses, Shego. It's how we digest."

"Yeah, so I can digest milk. Woo-Hoo."

This wasn't good: Shego was getting sarcastic, almost mean.

"I got to liking the power. I wanted it always on, and I wanted it strong. It's an addiction: if you want the power, you learn to give the virus what it wants. You learn to stay stressed, stay angry."

Kim wanted the conversation to be over, she wanted to simply not know.

"But you're OK now, right?"

"Addictions are never 'over', Kim; you work every day to control them. ZaZen, Tai Chi, yoga: Sensei figured out serotonin helped control the virus."

Shego wasn't a talker, but she'd just let Kim see her soul. Kim realized, finally: Shego needed something from her. Still, it was Shego: she'd think she should have been too strong, so's not be addicted in the first place.

"So you spend every day, fighting it? That takes incredible discipline. And you think I can't look up to that?"

"Maybe I was right: the only person who would ever understand me."

"I wish I did. What I don't get . . . why would you give it up? Shego? What made you go . . . clean?"

"Same thing you said: what did that ever get me?" Shego turned, and for the second time, held both Kim's hands. "What did all that ever get me, that I really wanted?"

"Me?"

"I couldn't face you, I mean, you're Kim Possible. I . . . screw this. I don't do words." Shego knelt up, kissed Kim, very gently. "You what I feel."

She did.

But, if Shego'd got so psyched she couldn't talk . . .

"So am I all growed up, now? You aren't going to throw me back?"

"You've been just right for a long time. I was too dumb to notice."

"So does this mean we're over with you testing me, all the time?"

"Being the older one is such a pain. But yeah, you earn couple-points if you catch me testing you again."

"Couple points? I don't get it." She did get that snarky Shego was back, and it was all gonna be OK.

"Yeah. You know, you earn couple points, and then you can use 'em. Say, like, you maybe hit on Shenoa. You got enough points, you can get away with it."

"Uh, yeah. Ha. Great example, there. Oh! Oh! Do you know what she did?"

"Told you what shoulda been obvious: you were still my girlfriend, and stop messing around?"

"That, too. But guess: I told her I had a date to that concert. She had tickets, no date. Then suddenly, wow! She's there with you."

"And I get a call, tells me I just hafta go with her to a super-neat concert. She set us both up. Alright, Kim: how we gonna do the payback?"

"I think she wants to go into private practice when she gets licensed in the fall. She'll need investors."

"Right. You're good."

"Testing, one, two, three."

"I knew we shoulda left all this alone. Speaking of testing? you know endurance is important."

"Huh? Oh! Couches are important too, Shego."

"That's how this whole 'talk' thing of yours got started: you made me wait.

"Try this: we can do late lunch and furniture over on Commercial. Then I'll pick up my stuff at Coal Harbour, meet you back at Point Grey. We got those spotted prawns to finish."

"Oh, that's what we're calling it now? Hey, Shego: this time remember to bring your exercise bra? The one for the mature woman?"

Being a woman of few words, Shego let it pass. Kissed her again, though.

_August: family_

"Mom? How come doctors are always late?"

Kim and Mrs. Possible had been sitting in the reception area of the clinic, University Research Hospital, for forty-five minutes. She was bored reading online news; tired of pacing, and just wanted it over.

"So they can call it a 'waiting room,' dear." her mom replied, absently. "I don't understand; it's a relatively simple procedure. Why is the preparation taking so long?"

Mother and daughter got a bit of a distraction, in the form of Shego, who entered carrying a rather large bouquet of exotic flowers.

"Sorry I'm late." Kim rose to meet her, gave her an awkward 'A-frame cuz we're just friends' hug.

"Mom? I'd like to introduce you to my best friend here, Shego."

Shego rolled her eyes at the whole pretence; tried to hide a smile. "I'm very happy to meet you, Doctor. Your daughter often talks about you."

"Shego. Thank you for everything you've done for Kim. She's settled in very well, in large part because of you."

Kim had her own problem, hiding smiles, watching Shego trying to navigate civilized inanities. She counted down the seconds; at seventy-four, Shego's phone rang.

"First. Check; I'm on it." Turned to Mrs. Possible: "I have to apologize, but there's a minor crisis at my work, and I need to leave. Kim . . . are you sure you'll be OK?"

Mrs. Possible stood. "Of course she will. It's really quite a simple operation. I don't know why they're keeping us waiting. Shego, I'd love to have dinner together before I leave. The three of us."

"I hope so too; I'll stop by tonight, see how you're doing. Kim?"

"Please. That'd be very thoughtful. Until then."

Just as Shego left, "Doctor Possible? Kimberly Ann Possible? The Doctor will see you now."

After the operation, Kim was a little numb and a little wobbly; her mom insisted on her being wheeled out. As it happened, Shego had called a car for her. She decided that simple introductions were better than long explanations which might lead to certain subjects. "Mom, this is my friend Andy Chen, and this guy here, is Bob Ivanovitch. They help out a lot. Guys, my mom." Bob even switched places, so her mom could sit in front. Since Mrs. Possible had only two days before heading off for an interview in D.C., Kim was combining activities. The morning, she'd shown her the lab, where she'd been charmed by Nick (who always had that effect on women 'of an age') and had sat down for a long, private talk with Lee. Now they were driving to Granville Island: even though it was the height of the cruise ship season, there were some shops Kim wanted her mom to see. By the time they'd parked, the local had almost worn off, and Kim walked with only a little help.

They settled for the café where Shego had taken her, nine months earlier, overlooking boats, bridges and water. And hungry gulls. Her mom made her sit, while she fetched soup and drinks, returning with a glass of white wine, clam chowder with a crunchy crusty top, and a glass of milk.

"Mom!"

"Hush, dear. I know it wasn't major, but any time there's a hospital procedure, you need to be careful. No wine. Now eat your soup."

"I want coffee!"

"Kim, you drink too much coffee. I've been counting since you woke."

Kim folded her arms, pouted. "You sound like . . my friend, Shego."

"Yes, she asked me to speak with you about it. I'm glad to see you've been exercising and keeping fit. But speaking as a scientist, you must take care of your brain and your body. You do know, Kim, that you're on the short list for the next MacArthur?"

Kim surrendered, pushed her spoon through the crust, mixed it with the creamy chowder. "This is good. Want a taste?" It took that long to hit her:

"Mom? Did Shego phone you? About me?"

"No, don't be silly: your father and I invited her for dinner when she was in Middleton. She didn't have a hotel, and with you and the twins gone, it seemed silly to let your room go unused, and"

"Mom!" She was probably crimson. "My Cuddle Buddies! Not Pandaroo." She laid her head on the tale, covered it; wanted to disappear.

"Kimberly Ann Possible, sit up straight. Now: I want you to listen. You know, when I was growing up, women weren't heads of Neurology. Now we can be and do anything."

Her mom's tone had momentarily stunned her back to childhood, and Kim played with her soup. "Uhhh?"

"We have those positions now, because we took the few opportunities we had, and we made the most of them. It was important for us be role models for those coming after us."

"I know mom, and I've been trying. Did I tell you that I'm giving the University Symposium Address in September? I wanted my students to see that . . . anything is possible." Now she felt even younger.

"That's not at all what I meant. You and Shego are very fortunate to be living in a country where gay individuals are able to marry and even raise families. Someday, Kimberley, you will be standing before the royal family in Stockholm. Imagine what it would mean for your community, to see Shego standing next to you. Your wife. Now that's all I'm going to say on that. Eat your soup, dear; you'll have a speedier recovery."

Even if she could overcome blazing embarrassment and form a coherent sentence, there wouldn't be much point: mom always had the last word.

_September: friends_

When it happened, it came hard.

Shego actually took the call; she'd had a late night, providing security on campus for Bill Clinton's lecture, and even though it wasn't an official 'Point Grey' night, she stayed for other reasons. Took a late breakfast in bed, which they never seemed to find time for. In a snarky mood, she answered Kim's phone for her; listened, silently handed it off to Kim; went to her own room. Kim found her, checking online newscasts.

By the time Kim got to her 9am molecular cell biology class, the news had obviously spread: the room held students, lab workers, journalists, cameras, and a gaggle of administrators. Written, neatly, on the blackboard:

'Professor Possible has just received the 2013 Lasker Award for Basic Medical Research. She is the youngest scientist ever to receive this award.'

Underneath, a hopeful 'no class?' and a cartoon. She just had to have the campus cartoonist, in her class, who'd sketched a woman (with orange hair) scaling a mountain labeled 'Nobel.' Paused, half way up, waving a Canadian flag. Caption: 'It IS Possible.'

Shego took charge, walking onto the classroom stage, taking a microphone. She wore the same outfit she'd come home in the previous night: tight fitting black pants-suit, white blouse buttoned low enough to show the rainbow necklace; one inch heels with a square-cut toe. She looked awesome.

"Alright: pay attention; I'm only saying this once. Students: please take a seat near the front of the room. Journalists, others: please sit near the back, and respect the rights of the students. This will be Doctor Possible's one and only news conference. She will begin by introducing the others who have worked with her, long and hard, to make this happen. She will then give a non-technical lecture on her work. At the end, she will open the floor to questions, including those from the media. All other access to Doctor Possible will be through the University Office of Public Relations. Doctor Possible's security team has informed me that they will enforce these restrictions."

By this time, the entire classroom auditorium had quieted, and everyone taken seats. Kim was in awe: Was this really her girlfriend? It took a few minutes to realize that the director of security for any number of large public events would have crowd control down cold. Still, Shego's raw power, standing onstage . . . thrilled her.

"Are there any questions? Good. Doctor Possible? Do you want to introduce your team?" Shego held the mike out, and it was her turn.

She'd brought the iPad, so piecing together a lecture wasn't hard. By the time she'd gotten to the 'sperm = signal transduction' slide, about half the journalists had given up, snuck out. Clever Shego. After inane questions from the journalists, she signed autographs and posed for cell pics with students who wanted to email their parents. By eleven, Andy and Bob were onstage, leading her to one of SG's high-security vehicles.

"Thanks, guys; you did great. Andy: home."

"Point Grey or Coal Harbour, Miss Go?"

Shego looked at her, took an executive leap. "Coal Harbour. Make sure you lose the journalists." She settled back in the SUV, sighed.

Good decision, because Kim was in shock. Odd: the proudest day of her life had sucked out her energy like a vampire. A phrase she was coming to say more often: 'If it hadn't been for Shego…'

"Shego? What was that? You were just amazing; I know you, I mean I thought I knew you, but" She finished the rest of the sentence, whispering in Shego's ear.

"Tonight; got a busy day. And in answer to your first question: I gave 'em the same attitude I did for Clinton; the media probably remembered it from last night. They played nice. Good luck explaining 'security team' to the biology class."

"Was it like this when you heard about the Nobel?"

"Nope. I just got angry; spread some green on the press corps. It woulda been fun, but Drakken told me to hold up his image. Then it got like you tell kids 'watch out or you'll get stuck that way.' And I did." But she had a smile, and she was closing her eyes, relaxing.

Not. "Now I got one, Kim. Your mom said a lot of Laskers go on to a Nobel. Is that ahead?"

"You talked to mom?"

"Yeah. We talk a couple times a month. Anyway she called you, and, it got routed to me. Said to say she's proud of you. Then something I didn't get, about evening gowns."

"My mom? You talk with her? On purpose?"

"I like her. Also she's my doctor - that little bug I caught, we talked about? She's been working with me, the last four, five years."

"She didn't tell me."

"Yeah, she's good with the whole 'privacy' thing. I think she kinda lost it with you for putting on that 'just friends' show, when she came up here for your laproscopy."

Kim folder her arms, glared at Shego. "You have this whole private life, WITH MY MOTHER, and I don't get told?"

"What! I just told you. Sheesh."

"Alright, then I'm not explaining the evening gown thing. Either."

"Hmmph. For your information, I still got the gown from the Nobel ceremony. And unlike certain people, I can still fit into mine." She looked significantly at Kim.

"Help! My life is being kidnapped by you and mom."

Shego got out a "We only want what's best for you, dear" before collapsing in giggles, worsened, slightly, by a tickle fight. Bob and Andy watched the road.

For some reason, that was the day it started. While she was staying at Shego's, someone left an entire stack of obscene calls at their Point Grey home. By the time SG set up tracing software, the harassment changed to posters. One particularly disturbing drawing, on her classroom blackboard, showed two over-muscled women kissing.

Kim took the drawing to Shen. "I could break it down, for you. Notice the distorted portions of bodies, here and here. Here's the exec summary: you got someone with serious problems, and seriously distorted thinking, about women. I wouldn't sit in the same room with him. But then I don't do sex offenders, either."

Next morning, she needed to go out for light shopping. The Vespa, the cute little scooter that'd been a house-warming gift from Shego, was spray-painted with 'dikes.' It would have been funny if it didn't hurt so much.

Shego was not happy. Bob and Andy, as well as half the SG team, 'saw green,' as the company slang had it.

Kim handled it better. She'd spent four years being harassed by Bonnie and her crowd; this guy was a beginner. She was actually looking forward to meeting him privately, say on her walk in Spirit Park, giving him a spelling lesson, re-arranging his anatomy.

The hard part, for her, was watching the effect on Shego. They started staying at the Coal Harbour home; then they started staying in, nights. Shego was regressing rapidly: moody, sarcastic, angry. And green.

Kim invited Shenoa for dinner, and she delivered the verdict: "You guys are driving each other bananas. Shego: delegate the case to your Second. You have the emotional tools to handle this; use 'em. Kim: there's nothing you can do here except drive Shego crazier. Go back to your condo. Wait it out until the psycho is caught."

Back at the University, she returned to her old rhythm: long walk in the morning, lab work until late. She kept her eyes open; she'd get SG at their own game. She began to notice patterns of people around her, then just one. Joe, from her 9am class. Nice guy, really shy, and he was stalking her.

Third night back, she took off an hour early, walked home alone, and sure enough, there was Joe. She turned to confront him, and an over-large SUV pulled up, five feet away. Andy, with a taser, shouting at Joe, throwing him to the ground and then it happened so quickly; Bob, leading her back to the car, covering her with a gun. "We must leave; for you it is not safe." and as he opened the door, he slammed her against it, cuffed her in front, threw a body bag over her, and tossed her in the back seat of the SUV.

Kidnapped.

It took about five seconds to realize the bag was an electronic 'cage;" no signals could get through, and she was now invisible to the SG tracking devices. In the dark, all she could do was feel accelerations, map out turns: they were heading south, to Richmond. Another few minutes, and she was out of the cuffs, considerings options.

She could rip open the bag, and SG would just pick her up. Easy, foolproof – but it had a faint trace of heroine, waiting for Dudley Do-right to rescue her. Not her style.

Alternative: take Ivanovitch by surprise, then rip open the bag, present SG with his carcass.

The plan worked: when the car stopped, she was led out: a twist, and Ivanovitch was down and she was out of the bag. He got up, and they faced each other.

She knew she was faster, better trained. He did mass about 2 point five times her weight, though, which would make the fight more fun. Until he said:

"Doctor Possible. If you fight, you will win, but I will injure you severely. There will be no Nobel Prize. You understand this? Good. Now we must leave, quickly."

Kim looked around: the company MiG. She duly climbed in; he tossed the bag after her. Even in the semi-dark, she'd noticed that the auxiliary fuel tanks hadn't been loaded. If Ivanovitch went at any speed, this would be a very short flight: at supersonic speeds, the FoxBat series guzzled gas.

He took off at breathtaking speed, with no tower communication. Headed out to sea, then, skimming the surface and below radar, turned back towards land.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Where we need you."

"Who is 'we'?"

"You will learn. Please, Doctor Possible: the light is fading, and I must not hit trees."

They passed over mountains; now were flying low over tundra. After a while, it changed to white: they'd gone north, and the cabin temperatures were dropping rapidly. She looked at the body bag; it was simply silvered, and, like a survival blanket, reflected heat. She wrapped it around.

The snow made for clear flying, and they put on speed. Soon.

"Your name is Ivanovitch. It's a patronymic, right? So your son would be Bobovitch?"

"You have a most unusual sense of humor, Doctor."

Alright, not now.

"Doctor Possible. You have flown this, yes? From Vancouver to Washington, yes?"

"Yes. Yes."

"So why is my fuel gauge reading empty? We have only gone . . . not as far."

"Because Drakken is an idiot."

"This makes no sense to me."

"You want information, you give information. Yes?" She stopped herself, mentally: she was starting to sound like Shego. Oh, well.

"Doctor Drakken did hire me, and he did give me papers and backgrounds, to enter your company."

"And he did forget to load the outboard fuel tanks. And he did forget that the combat radius of the craft is 300 klicks. That is: at supersonic speeds. If you'd flown subsonic, it would have been four times that."

"I must remember, in the case I am asked to kidnap you again. Now, we are landing. I will attempt to glide on snow; you understand without landing gear there will be no control. Please protect yourself."

Kim assumed crash position: feet up, arms protecting head. The landing was easy, but, with no steering, they spun wildly. Scarier because she couldn't see; she looked out, as they plunged down a greyed-out snowbank. One wing caught against a rocklike shape, flipped the plane. Shego's investors were gonna be really angry.

"Now what?"

"We will wait. Your people are closer; mine know the course. We see who wins."

It got colder; Kim unbuckled, let herself down to the floor and climbed into the body bag.

"Do you have a son?"

"I have daughters. The first is six and begun school. My little Tashi is three."

"And your wife?"

The answer was a time in coming.

"Natasha is a lawyer. She is very good."

"I think I met her. She is very intelligent. You're a lucky man."

No reply.

Some time later, she heard "The oldest reads about horses in school."

"I'll take her riding."

Alright. The MiG wasn't designed for passenger comfort. It took her around thirty minutes, but she climbed into the pilot's section. Bob was unconscious; she freed him, forced him into the thermal blanket with her. And waited.

The rescue team woke her. It was as though she were hallucinating: big, furry hats. With bright red stars pinned to the front. Unfortunately.

When she woke again it was dark. Cold and damp; she moved about, felt cinder-block walls. The room was fairly large, with a sanitary bucket in one corner, a steel door, a table, chair, and bed with thin mattress. Wool blanket, which she got under. She checked her body: her wrist, with the implant, was wrapped with a metallic tape she couldn't unwrap. Frustrating, but she'd rather that, than crude surgery to extract the implants. All the SG equipment she carried on her was gone: goodbye phone, stiletto, wire, drugs, multitool, picklock and the secret decoder ring. She still had her Tag Heuer, which read 3pm and that told her she'd been unconscious over a day.

The red star suggested a renegade Soviet political faction; Bob's obvious skill as a pilot suggested military. At a guess, she was being held at an abandoned base, somewhere in the colder regions of the former Soviet Union. Assuming she did free herself, she'd be tens or hundreds of miles from help. Her best option was to wait for rescue. Unfortunately, all the SG sensors were short-range. Even if she could get the metal off her wrists.

Kim's next best option was to make a friend.

At 4pm, her time, a light came on, the door opened, and a tray quickly placed in her . . . room. Soup spoon; large chunk of dark bread, very hot soup. Side dish of yogurt. Thermos of scalding tea. The soup was thick with cabbage, potatoes, carrots and chunks of some kind of meat. The meat turned out to be rather gelatinous with sinew, and she ate everything on the tray. It was among the worst food she'd ever had.

Her routine varied not at all for the next four days: she placed the empty trays and full bucket by the door; they were changed out every five hours, with a period for sleep. Twice, she was given a plastic bottle containing low-grade vodka, which she set it aside for possible bribes. Or Molotov cocktails. The timing of the meals suggested roughly a sixteen hour time difference from Vancouver; easily enough to place her in central Russia. She thought deeply about the molecular biology of the cell, about family and friends. By the second day she had developed a rather elaborate fantasy involving the Nobel Prize, shopping at the mall for a gown, and sex with Shego. On the fourth morning, she skipped cellular biology, went directly to a mental diary, trying to remember every detail of their relationship. By noon, Bob entered with a tray. Two armed men had positioned themselves at the door; their range of fire extended over the entire room. A third, unarmed, brought an additional chair. He set it at the table, left, and the door was closed. Bob sat down.

He looked thin. "You are recovered faster than I. Are you eating well?"

"I'm recovering faster because you let me have the thermal blanket. You saved my life."

"My komandir believes you saved my life. I am demoted, to translator. And bringer of trays."

"Can you sneak in better food?"

"Because of you, I will see my children again. If you also teach little Tashi to ride a horse, I will help you leave this place."

"Trade you: get me toilet privileges."

"My komandir will interrogate you. Ask him."

The door opened again; this time, the guards stood, weapons at ready, on either side of the door. A short, thick man entered and Bob immediately stood to attention. By the gray in his beard, she'd guess early fifties; by the gold fillings, that he had access to health care rare in the Soviet era. By his attitude, that he was accustomed to command. Her guess was that he would have been a high ranking military officer, before the collapse of the Soviet Union. He stood, for a long time, inspecting her, and the only response she could conceive was to sit, perfectly still, unblinking, returning his gaze. He nodded at her, sat down.

"Tell him I want a proper bathroom."

Bob said nothing, until his superior looked at him. Presumably he translated accurately, because the man smiled, nodded, issued a short command to Bob. Then the interrogation began. It was nothing like what she expected.

"He says to call him General Boris, but that is not his name or rank. He asks if you have skills to help our cause."

"Ask him what his cause is."

"He says you are intelligent and you know."

"Tell him he is attempting to regain power and will use terror –no, tell him subversion – to accomplish his ends."

"He asks again what skills you have."

"Tell him I am a biologist with biochemical knowledge. I specialize in fertility."

"He is amused. He asks if you can make biological warfare materials."

"Tell him this base is – too primitive. I would need a modern and expensive lab."

"He says the sperm of all the great Soviet leaders has been frozen. He asks if you could produce a child by Lenin."

"Tell him no. The sperm is too badly damaged, after all this time. Ask him why not Brezhnev."

Boris had remained impassive, watching her closely throughout the questioning, but he now smiled.

"He says you have unusual sense of humor. He says to spend your time to learn Russian. He would enjoy your dinner conversation."

Wrong friend. "Ask him if you can teach me."

"He agrees. You must speak well in one month."

She'd hoped to learn something, anything, but General Boris was a canny opponent. She was told she'd be permitted to eat in the cafeteria, and use the bathrooms. Good behavior would be rewarded with continuation of those freedoms. She was expected to remain in perfect health, and would only be injured if she caused injury or attempted escape.

The General then stood, smiled, bowed and left. Kim suspected that he'd momentarily wanted to kiss her hand. She also suspected he knew that he would instantly become a hostage. She wanted to tell him 'another time' but, unfortunately spoke no Russian. She did get in a quick 'a revoir,' though.

Her door was unlocked, and for the moment, unguarded. She could take Bob hostage, though it was hard to see the point. "Bob? Why am I here? What do they want me for?"

"The komandir said you would ask this. He said, a young lady like you, should know Kafka. Do you know this 'Kafka?'"

"Better than I like."

"He said also to tell you 'mamki sharashka.' Now, if you like, I will show you the building. First . . ." He took a pair of metal shears from a pocket; carefully removed the metal band from her left wrist. Short range sensor: if Shego were directly overhead, she might pick up a signal.

"This is no danger, and we will use it to track you. Now: you are in the building where the men eat. You are locked in an empty storeroom; to your left, the bathroom for women. We will give you things to clean it. To your right, the entrance to the commissary. There is nothing of value in this building, other than the bottles of vodka. It is unfortunate that the vodka is from the Ukraine, where it can only be fed to pigs. Now, I will you show you the bathroom."

Captivity had brought a certain concreteness to her world. She'd spent hours looking for Egyptian cotton sheets, good restaurants Shego would like, and the occasional emerald. Right now, her biggest worry was getting the bathroom clean. A couple of full day's work, and it smelled like a decontam room, and the water was cold. Really cold. Like with the food, she was happy to have it. Messing with a few dozens of men cheered her; she was under strict instructions to leave them alone, but it obvious her presence cheered them too. It was the only time in her life she'd had the full attention of a group of young and mostly attractive men. And also way too late.

She got to spend several hours a day with Bob, talking and haphazardly learning Russian. Her hope was to pick up enough Russian to aid in an escape; he started with traditional Russian proverbs. She especially liked 'Curious Varvara's lost his nose' along with "Your friend's wife is always an attractive virgin.' They could be useful conversational ploys with the General, but also suggested that Bob knew a bit about his wife's side interests than he let on. It wasn't clear how she could use them to induce local people to hide her.

Her life became a routine, highlighted with meals of simple but astoundingly bad food. 'Aged lamb with extra-virgin fat' was clearly a commissary special, and went over pretty well with the men. She was just enjoying her fourth helping of yogurt-with-barley when the commissary door slammed shut.

"Where is he? I need to talk with him! Quickly, you fools."

Drakken.

Alright: finally a decent hostage. She had just enough time to stand, when General Boris showed. He drew a pistol, said 'shutovskojj,' and shot Drakken dead.

Of course she didn't know he was dead; she rushed to him, felt for a pulse, tried CPR. Pounding his chest produced splashes of blood; Drakken opened his eyes and for a moment, seemed to know her, then died again.

Covered in blood, she was between shock and tears; she wrenched herself away, saw Boris run from the room; followed him out while he boarded a waiting helicopter. Looking around: might be her only chance. She saw water, three sides, possibly an island; great. Picked out hangers, runways, a few planes, a series of larger hangers with active cranes, heavy machinery, workers. Plane her only real option.

It was about all she saw, before being hit from behind, thrown over a shoulder, run away from the base, and thrown into a snowbank.

"Idiot! We are under attack. Stay down." Bob's voice, before he ran off.

Of course she didn't: sitting up, she saw the why, understood: an entire fleet of Hind attack 'copters was heading directly towards the base. A good portion of the men were now out of doors, watching. Hiding in a snowdrift seemed, suddenly, like a good idea. Point for Bob.

Voices. Bob, and: "Kimmie! Are you two alright?"

"Dad! What are you doing here. Get down. Ooo!" As Bob threw himself ontop of her, squeezing the breath from her, forcing her down.

She heard rockets screaming, explosions.

"I'm your ransom. The scoundrels wanted delivery vehicles for their terrorist devices, and, as the foremost rocket scientist, they picked me. I'm sorry Kimmie; I got you into this."

The troops streaming from the helicopters were definitely not SG; she heard shots, screams; eventually, felt a boot in her back.

"They want us to turn over. Stand, please."

The three were cuffed, manacled, left to sit in the snow.

"I think Tsar Putin does not care for Soviet sympathizers. No matter: my people will be free."

It was a good hour before the base was cleared of the insurgents. She noticed a commercial 'copter land; anyway, it was painted a bright blue, was lightweight, and very advanced. Shego, wearing her signature green and black combat suit, stepped out. Her walk spoke power, as did her glowing hands; she slashed through cuffs and manacles, helped Doctor Possible stand and lifted Kim in her arms. Left Bob behind, as she strode back to her 'copter.

"I'm sorry. I think I gained a lot of weight." Weird: she'd never seen Shego really cry, before.

In the air, they headed south. "Rogachevo. Old Soviet air base. We lost your position almost immediately. Sorry it took so long."

"Shego? Shut up and just hold me."

"Check." Shego re-arranged the seat belts; held her.

"Now wait just one darn minute. I'd like to hear about this rescue. I was the target here."

"Yes, we understood that when we realized we'd lost Kim – and you. We had to work indirectly. It took over ten days to get Bonnie released on parole. Our Southwest area office has weaker connections than we needed. After that it was easy: she homed in on Drakken, and all we had to do was make him nervous enough to jump but still feel safe. The Greater Russian Empire wanted these guys as much as we did. The rest, you know."

"I do indeed. Kimmie, your mother said for you to rest. She told me to let Miss Shego here take care of you. I think I'll see how the pilot is doing and leave you two alone."

When they were alone, Kim seriously relaxed into Shego. She wasn't going to break down in front of her Dad, but Shego was different, and she'd never felt so desperate to be touched.

"Shego: Drakken's dead. I tried to help, but they shot him near the heart. I couldn't do anything. I never felt so helpless."

"We knew it might happen. It was an acceptable loss."

"That's – you didn't see him die. He looked at me."

"Sorry: that was the old me, talking. I really fell apart. It's gonna be a hard climb back; I'm way too angry. Will you stay with me?"

" Shutovskojj."

"What?"

"I think it's Russian for 'idiot.'"

"Kim: it's Russian for . . . clown, buffoon."

"Oh. Not you; it's just what Boris called Drakken."

"So he died as he lived. Sorry, Kim; I shouldn't have said that.

"I wish I could have spared you. I would make it all unhappen, if I could. I would make so much so different, for you. Will you stay and help?"

"One of us needs to say something wise-ass so I won't cry but I can't think of anything. Hold me more."

_December: fullness._

Twelve - eleven - thirteen was a rainy Friday afternoon; Kim made a white tea (decaf); took it to the sofa, looked out, over the bay, to distant mountains.

Stone people; the foundations of the world, her spirit guides. One year. She'd flown to Vancouver on hope alone, found herself in love.

She looked: hey! A bald eagle, sitting not two hundred feet away. She got behind the camera quickly; set up a shot. Magnificent.

An hour or so left until their anniversary date: she checked email. No, if you fail the class and fail the final, you cannot get a 'pass' in cell bio. No, she couldn't lecture in Japan next week; she had an agent and please direct requests to her. Shutovskojj.

Mail from Bob. He'd gotten freedom of the yard, and was acting as escort for the other prisoners, between buildings. She told him about Tashi's first pony ride all by herself, putting in every detail she could remember. Sent a jaypeg.

Call to Maggie. Her baby was crawling already. Mostly. A fairly long talk, half work advice, half baby advice. They were invited over for dinner the following week.

Email from Shen and Laurie, suggesting lunch. Who knew Laurie had a head for business? Shen had got her dream, her 'Center for the Psychology of the First Nations.' They'd given her startup funds, but Laurie was the one who found long-term financing, rented the building, hired the staff, designed flyers and an ad program. The Center showed a profit even in the first four months. Laurie was all grown up; just took the right woman, apparently.

The eagle was still there. Kim let her eyes defocus; she never knew it was possible to hold so much happiness. Drifted off into a small nap, when she heard the security buzzer, and Shego's footsteps.

"Hey, girlfriend." She bent down, kissed her cheek from in back of the couch. "You're wearing the shuang xi. What'd I do now? You only wear that when I screw up."

"Three things we have to talk about."

Shego went to the kitchen, made a hot chocolate, with a large splash of Grand Marnier. "I want to go out to dinner."

"Fine: let's do your side of town."

"You know I like that little Japanese place, Aki."

The first time Shego took her to Aki, Kim knew Shego really trusted her. Zero glamour; basic Japanese salaryman food, and always crowded with downtown office workers. And no tourists; it became their special place.

"I have this odd craving for the natto maki. If you're gonna drink, you better call a car."

Shego slid down next to Kim, lay with head in her lap.

"When I was in Austin you went to Middleton. Why?"

"Uh, annual check-up? With your mom?"

"Try harder, with better lies."

When Shego didn't respond, Kim placed one hand on her chest, the other under her knees.

"No! Kim, wait, no. Please? Stop that! Bonnie. I was checking on Bonnie!"

She gave Shego an extra minute of tickles, just for fun. Shego, head still in her lap, turned. She had a seriously aggrieved look on her face. "That is so unfair! You get to tickle me and I don't get to do anything back." She made a mock-frown.

"Unfair? When I'm in my eighth month and can't even put on my own socks, you can tell me about unfair. Come to think about it, they would never have kidnapped me if I coulda fought without hurting the baby. You're lucky I can even fit into a chair at Aki."

Shego very hesitatingly put a hand on Kim's round, round tummy. Looked a question at her.

"It's OK, love. You need to start bonding with her more. It's really physical; you can feel there's a little Shego in there."

"Is that her, moving? Am I feeling her?"

"Yup: third trimester she started making her moves. I hope you're getting ready for this. Mentally, I mean. Besides losing your bedroom here."

Shego was so intent on what she was feeling, with the baby. Kim took over.

"You're acting like you're the one with crazy hormones. I want to decide about her name. She needs to know her name, start hearing it from us."

"I know." Shego was still in awestruck mode. It happened everytime she called the baby 'little Shego.' Maybe next time Shego ought to go through the pregnancy; she'd be a lot less starry-eyed. In her own time, she came back to focus.

"Shenoa says Elizabeth is a really popular name these days."

"Yeah, so you can call her 'ego'. No way. Look, Shego: since she really came from both of us, I was thinking, we could take parts of our two names."

"What? You mean like 'Pogo? Goposs? You sure you a hundred percent, here, Kim? I heard the hormones get fierce."

"Idiot: I meant our first names."

"Oh, like . . . ummm . . . Shemberley? "

"Forget it. It was probably a bad idea. Still no on 'Elizabeth.' Last thing. The baby needs two parents."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You're still in the field. I want you to take a desk job."

"Hey! No. No way, I am giving up my career."

"So you wanna get pregnant? See what happens to your career?"

"No. Maybe. I mean, not yet. It isn't fair, Kim."

"Children change your life. Deal with it."

Shego rolled onto the floor, got up, paced. Always a bad sign; she was trying to control her anger and frustration. "If you expect me to do that. If you expect, then I want something back. Damn it, Kim: will you marry me?"

She said nothing; saw her life slipping off to some place she didn't control.

"Your mom says she wants to come up. Your dad wants a big ceremony. Whatcha say, Kim?"

"You've been talking with my mom behind my back? Arranging my life?"

"We had to talk about . . . stuff. Delivery, birth, stuff."

"And you think I don't know you're taking midwife classes, secretly?"

"Now you're checking up on me? Who squealed?"

Kim sighed, her 'you idiot' sigh. "Maggie. Shen. Andy. Lee and Nick. A few more I can't think of right off."

"Oh. Well . . . it's for your own good."

There it was again: she'd been woven into this tangle of people: friends, family, community; a lover and a baby, until her life wasn't exactly hers. And still more a life than she ever thought possible. She was so . . . .

"Yes. Yes, I will."

**The End**


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